


Genus Congruent

by Inky_Mermaid



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-05-09 10:12:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14714114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky_Mermaid/pseuds/Inky_Mermaid
Summary: A young scientist with a stubborn personality ends up working side-by-side with Master Chief, who starts to find her more and more endearing. Until she falls in love with someone else. Someone much more unusual than even a genetically engineered super-soldier. Someone she isn't meant to love.Others say it's against natural law, against the rules.But she's never been good at following rules, so decides to try making up her own.She's about to discover the pros and cons of having an alien lover.





	1. To Scorn Supremacy

**Author's Note:**

> Good evening, potential readers. Welcome to the first fic of my new account after years of not writing.  
> This is a very old Halo fanfic that I worked on as a teenager, and it’s getting a complete remake because… well… it was terrible! It used to be called Compatible; Protégée. I’m overhauling my main character and other parts, but following some of the same plot points, hopefully leading to improvements, as obviously I’m not a teen anymore.  
> No flames, no lore obsessing, please. I literally haven’t played Halo for years and I don’t have time to replay the old ones or play/watch the new games or content or movies. I am occasionally looking up simple stuff, to make sure it makes sense as much as possible, but it’s a fan-fic, and by extension, I hope I can just get on with doing what I want with it. I just want the characters to play with really, not all the rest.  
> Set maybe somewhere after Halo 2, because that’s what I remember the most. I am mainly reposting this for a beloved reader who after seven years (!) was still looking for it after I took it down, so, how could I not at least try and make something of it for her?  
> She knows who she is. Thank you so much for your support, I can’t even tell you how much it means to me!  
> Without further ado:  
> None of the characters taken from Halo are mine and I disclaim any rights to the characters in my writing. Except for Mischa. She’s pretty much mine.

“What in the world is so important that I can’t have my breakfast?” Master Chief snapped at his subordinate as he’s rushed groggily towards his new commander’s office.  
“I think we’ve had a last-minute addition to the team, sir. Although I’m not quite sure in what sense.” Private Carson pants uncomfortably as his goatee twitches, setting what he must assume is a fast pace, but Chief is barely strolling. Chief sighed heavily. He was getting mighty fed up of these filler reconnaissance missions. It was a little anticlimactic after the whole drama with Gravemind.  
In fact, as soon as he walked through the door and saw the commander with a girl in a dress, he had to repress the urge to groan, what is this? Because it surely was bullshit.  
A beat of silence later made Chief glad for his visor and the fact that nobody generally questioned him about why he kept it on almost all the time. It was easy to stare and gawk without getting into trouble when one wore a permanent opaque helmet.  
She had the strangest green eyes he’d ever seen, and a smattering of freckles over her nose and face that almost gave the impression that she was made up of multi-coloured skin tones. Her hair was shoulder length and more on the curly than wavy side, and she looked like she’d seen some sun or other recently, if the light-red swarthiness over her cheeks was anything to go by. He didn’t often see nicely sun-kissed people.  
He assumed immediately that she must be an aristocrat.  
“This is Doctor Reef…” the commander was looking at Chief expectantly, and Chief realised he’d completely missed what had preceded the introduction.  
“Uh - right,” he held his hand out awkwardly to shake Doctor Reefs own.  
“Please, call me Storm,” she said this in a quiet voice, but Chief knew she wasn’t shy. She was observing carefully. Tricky to do through a helmet, but Chief found himself muting a cough and tilting his head inquiringly at the commander, who wandered back around his desk with a haughty, smug expression, before gesturing towards her.  
“Storm will be accompanying you on your next touch down in four weeks,” he started, and Chief narrowed his eyes invisibly, “she’s a highly trained doctor in many fields, she knows how to hack into the rebel covenants mainframe, and… I’m sending her in under covert ops.” The flicker of his eyelid meant that these were ‘covert ops’ that Chief would most probably not have prior knowledge of before their mission started. Something he hated with a passion, because it made situations unpredictable, and dangerous.  
He eyed her again.  
She was tiny. It was like Cortana had shat out a baby in human form and dressed it up as something that didn’t look remotely capable of defending itself.  
“Uh, Commander, I know this is probably important, but don’t you think the girl should receive some training before being sent into a red zone?” he knew protesting was stupid, but perhaps if he put the fear of death in her, she might change her mind.  
He was shocked when she came right up to him, breaking his sight of the commander, and smiled at him sweetly. A bit too sweetly. Like… sarcastic kind of sweet.  
“Ah, Commander, I see you’ve put me under the protection of more misogynists!” her voice came out much stronger than before, and she glared at him sideways before suddenly scaling him like a tree, flipping over behind him and dragging him backwards via headlock onto the floor before he had time to close his gaping mouth. He stifled an inaudible groan as his back twinged a little. He wasn’t as young as he used to be. And since when did little ballerinas throw him about in his superior’s office?  
Chief quickly sat up but found himself spinning before getting to his feet as she grabbed his left arm, propelled his body weight against him, and flung him back down onto his stomach.  
“You know,” he huffed, annoyance seeping through, “it’s all well and good attacking me in a calm environment when you have the element of surprise in your silly dress but defending yourself long enough to…” she interrupted him.  
“Stop complaining please. I’ve been on several of these missions and I’d rather get on with it, without you complaining.”  
Chief buttoned his trap, scowling.  
“Now, now,” the commander looked only a little perturbed, as though he expected something like this. He gave Chief a hand up and then sidled over to the woman to placate her fiery glare. He understood why people called her Storm, he supposed. “Mischa here has been trained well enough to hold her own if she gets into trouble for a while, Chief, but you will be acting as bodyguards for her. As I said, she is covert. We do need intelligence agents in the field occasionally. And it doesn’t hurt to study the psychology and science of other species and their motivations either…”  
“Study?!” Chief spat it harder than he intended, “Oh great, you’re a spook and a shrink for aliens?”  
“Why you…!” the commander steered Mischa round in a circle when she tried to march up to him again with her fists clenched. Chief thought that was stupid. She obviously wasn’t well trained enough to know that hitting him with fists would just break her fingers.  
The commander raised his voice is exasperation. “Storm is the only one capable of bringing down that facilities mainframe now, and we also have some important data to collect, as well as biohazardous samples and deploying a tactical mole virus to hack into their mainframe! So, can it, Chief!”  
“Well, where’s Igmund, why can’t he come?” Chief spewed, not seeing the flashes of rage or upset on Mischa’s face. Igmund was usually their go-to for anything like this, and he was trained almost as well as Chief himself.  
“My father is… he died.” Mischa angrily frowns at the floor, not able to stop her chin wobbling as the memory is so fresh. “He died this morning, and I’m the only one who knows everything he knew. I own his lab, I own his equipment, I own… his memories.” She didn’t make eye contact when she started stalking towards the door. The commander dropped his hand awkwardly and then eyed Chief with contempt as Mischa muttered something about seeing them tomorrow and slinked off, leaving Chief feeling wretched.  
“Oh well. Nicely done Chief. Maybe you should let me do the talking the next time you see a girl with a pretty face…!” Cortana piped up and Chief groaned heavily, sitting in one of the commander’s chairs and nodding, prepared to hear the rest of the briefing.


	2. Veiled Depths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I am not the speediest uploader. I’m slow as a sloth, I’m sorry. Not sure that’s going to change though, I’m too much of a procrastinator. I’ll try my best though, I promise!  
> Thank you for the review Landy Ano, I’m glad it’s okay! I was worried I was changing it too much from the old story but… I think it’s better, I just can’t write the way I used to!  
> Welcome to chapter two!

Mischa felt the breath leave her violently as her chest took the brunt of an impact, leaving her winded for several seconds before she could inhale any air, even with the training armour strapped firmly into place around her. Her face was red and her hair was scatty about her head, falling out of her previously perfect high-tail plait. Her lungs vibrated a little, causing a stridor in her breathing to be made apparent. Chief scoffed, “I told you that without the element of surprise, all that bravado meant nothing.” He was surprised she had lasted this long against him. It wasn’t so much that she was actually fighting him very well, but she could take a heck of a beating and was stubborn enough to keep getting up.  
Which she did again.  
Exhausted, she raised her fists even though she could barely stand. She felt like she had some cracked ribs, but she’d be damned if she’d tell him that. She was learning that her opinion on Chief being an asshole was not going to change. He was an asshole. A large and muscly one that had a big ego. But then, she had a big ego too. Hence her continued approach towards an armoured man who had flipped and incapacitated her up to twenty times in the past hour. The padded training room mats were starting to get scuffed by the rigor of the prolonged fight.  
Damnit, if she didn’t take him down once then she was going to go unconscious trying. At least there weren’t any spectators like their previous training sessions had warranted. Chief didn’t like to be seen being too harsh with a lady when people were watching. But now they were alone, well, she was glad for some of the things her father had taught her, and she was glad for having the ability to keep getting up onto her feet.  
Other than that, she wanted to vomit, sob, and curl up in pain under her duvet.  
“You’re a piece of shit, Chief,” she spat some excess fluid out of her mouth, not wanting to know if it was bloody or not, “anyway, why should I have to be able to take you down? I can take soldiers down who aren’t SPARTANS. I don’t have super soldier abilities…”  
He interrupted her, “You want to see how long you last against an elite? A brute? Some of them are ten times worse than me if they get close to you. If you don’t take them out with a gun, girly, you’re screwed.”  
“Well, then teach me more about guns so I can shoot them before they get this close!” she growled at him, trying to scramble up to remove his helmet, thinking of cheap shots to maybe poke his eyes out.  
“Commander said you were gun-trained,” he sounded smug, as though she’d admitted that she was lacking.  
“I am!” she had to try not to shout at him, not only that but angry talking now hurt her chest and throat. He flung her over with his shoulders and neck once more, where she’d been trying to pull at his helmet. She hit the ground with an “Oomph!”  
“Stay down, Doctor Reef,” the way he said her name in such a derogatory manner was infuriating.  
She got up onto her knees and he swiped them from under her again, but she didn’t stop. “Never!” she started pushing up again, wobbling as she did, showing him that he could beat her into submission physically but he would not break her will. He could see why she was in intelligence. She was probably one of those people who couldn’t be mind-controlled or tortured into revealing council secrets.  
She was horrified and shocked when he employed a new tactic, instead of staying standing, he surged forward on top of her to push her flat against the ground this time.  
Oh no, she was not having that! Her legs came up to kick him directly up under the chin from below as he approached, not worried about hurting him. His helmet actually dislodged, and her thighs fixed into place around his neck, to his slight surprise. It was always her surprising manoeuvres that caught him out. She twisted aggressively, panting and forcing her muscles as tight as they would go whilst digging her fingers under the damned clips of the metal visor.  
His helmet released with a shick.  
An extremely pale but chiselled face appeared from under it, with strong features, a jutting chin and dark, slightly grey-specked hair dripping down toward her. A fairly large, roman nose and a pair of thick, surprised eyebrows surrounded astounding bright blue eyes, like headlights shining out from the rest of the ruggedly handsome features. There was a slight shadow of stubble about his lower face, and his mouth was a little wonky, giving a roguish look to his entire pastiness.  
Mischa’s legs loosened so fast from him that they both dropped to the floor in a strange tangle of pretzelled limbs, at least on her behalf.  
There was a beat of winded silence.  
She opened her mouth to apologise, suddenly wanting to take her decision back to unmask him. It seemed too personal, like unmasking a superhero. All that came out vocally was a raspy wheeze and she suddenly realised he was extremely heavy.  
He propped himself on his forearms, glaring into her face, and slowly lifted his metal body away so she could untangle her legs and limbs from her boa constrictor impression around him.  
Neither of them seemed to be able to form any words until she slumped flat against the training mat and he separated completely from her.  
“S… sorry,” she licked her lips nervously, about to continue, but a lump formed in her airway when his eyes moved away from hers for the first time, down to her lips moving. Her tongue stilled as she saw him observe the pink appendage disappear back into her mouth speedily, without the shield of his visor. His blue eyes darkened and smouldered, his lip curled suggestively.  
Mischa’s gut flipped nauseatingly and she suddenly started to ponder down a whole new track as to why he’d been such an asshole to her. If he’d been looking at her like that the whole time from under the helmet… it gave a whole different meaning to a lot of their interactions.  
She clamped her legs together and ignored the embarrassing warmth flooding the entire front of her body, including her face, which felt like a laser lamp. “Chief…?” she uttered hesitantly.  
Chief sighed heavily, lifting himself with ease from her with his arms and sitting next to her on his butt, his elbows leant on his raised knees, feet flat on the ground.  
“Call me John,” he grumbled, “might as well now.”  
She felt terrible. How many people had ever even seen Master Chief’s face? She’d known him for all of two weeks and wrestled his guards off him while he was compromised.  
“Sorry John,” she whispered.  
He shook his head and stood, pushing his cropped hair out of his face with a gloved hand and extending one to her. “You want to make it up to me?” He waited until she took his hand and looked at him questioningly to continue, “Come to dinner with me. Nothing fancy, just a meal in my quarters.”  
Mischa’s eyes bugged out of their sockets and her hand went slack in surprise within his grip, but he pulled her up with enough strength for five people anyway. She let out a violent groan when she reached an upright position. John grimaced. “Jeez, I didn’t expect that response. I really did a number on you, didn’t I?” he smirked devilishly and Mischa gave him a somewhat loathing and sceptical expression. She wasn’t quite sure if she was hallucinating due to dehydration and too many knocks to the head.  
“So?” Chief tilted his head above her, starting to look a bit embarrassed, scratching the back of his neck, “Will you? Have dinner with me...? I would cook but I’m not so good in the kitchen so I’d probably order in… we can watch something or… talk about the mission or… whatever you want really…”  
“Are you asking me on a date?” Mischa stopped him talking, moving her arm to hold her abused ribs. John made an awkward face and squatted a little, blowing out his cheeks.  
“Ah… yes,” he nodded, looking away and then backtracking quickly, “although I guess I’ve been kind of a shit to you since we met so… I understand if you’re not into it…”  
“I did tell him to stop being such a bully!” Cortana piped up from the internals of Chief’s suit and he shut his eyes, as though her talking was the final step to cap his mortification.  
Mischa watched his expressions, captivated and amused, letting him stew, almost until she could see he was about to leave, and then she said, “Okay.”  
Chief’s blue eyes blinked open and a dopey grin that he tried to hide twitched mentally across his lower face. “O… okay? Okay! Okay then! Hah!” He clapped his hands together and then looked about the room, “Uh, we should get you to medical…”  
“Yeah, I’m not sure if some of my ribs aren’t broken…”  
“Are you serious? Why didn’t you say anything?” he went even paler, if that was possible.  
“I’ve had worse. I used to train with the Roganov brothers,” she scoffed, and he must have heard of them because he whistled lowly, “one of them choked me out so aggressively once that I was in the hospital with a crushed trachea for weeks.”  
“Hell! What?”  
“It’s why I always get back up. It’s not like anyone could do much worse to me than the Roganovs,” she shrugged. She didn’t miss how Chief’s face darkened as though he was about to disagree, but then he caught her eye and shook his head.  
“Well, I do not want to be compared to the Roganovs so, I am so sorry I didn’t recognise that you were actually injured. And… I guess, I owe you, or something,” he finished lamely.  
“Or something?” Mischa laughed a little but decided to stop quickly when it was sharp and painful. “You can go get me some mango sorbet after you’ve dropped me in the med bay?” she eyed him sideways and he eyed her back, grins breaking out on their faces.  
“Already done, Miss Python!”  
“Python?”  
“Flexible people have always disturbed me in training. Unnatural…” he shuddered, letting her lean against his side as they shuffled down the corridor.  
“It normally helps me get away from people when they attack, but you seemed more intent on aggression than evading,” Mischa admitted.  
“Hey, if evading is what you’re good at, you do that. Don’t try and match me just because we’re butting heads. It would have frustrated me to no end if I hadn’t been able to fight you due to good evasion!”  
“Psh, jeez, now you tell me. Well, I’ll just stick to what I know next time. Maybe I’d end up with fewer bone marrow clots breaking loose…”  
“Seriously, I am so sorry Reef…”  
“Stop, really. And it’s Mischa, please! Are we going to get on with each other a bit more now?”  
Chief heard someone coming down the deserted corridor and quickly shoved his jarringly handsome face back into his helmet so nobody else could see him, as some young cadets swung around the corner. He turned his visor towards her and she could picture him grinning underneath, ever the narcissist. Had to keep up his reputation. His lack of appearance. His frightening authoritarian anonymity.  
“Sure! No more arguments! Easy!”  
Mischa already knew she had completely lost his focus, he was too busy straightening up to look intimidating to walk past other people. She snorted.  
She reckoned it would be an interesting relationship with him, wherever it might lead, friends or otherwise. It would maybe make life on the spaceship a little less boring at least.


	3. Spaced Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter before the mission ramps up on an alien planet. How will Mischa's date with Chief go? Why does she never quite feel fulfilled?  
> (Had some awkward trouble with some of the italics in this one so hope it is okay!)

Mischa had been teased mercilessly about being asked on a date with Chief, especially since she’d gotten to know his squad of infiltration experts. She’d been particularly nervous when a large, hulking, tanned figure had approached and sat with her at lunch time, with short cropped hair and flat brows, expression constantly neutral. He’d stared at her silently for about a minute before he’d nodded at her and thumped his fist against his name tag. _Lieutenant Droggav_ was sewed neatly into his left shoulder pocket, and his forearm raised towards his mouth to take a large bite out of a chicken wing. It had a beautiful phoenix tattooed onto it, which Mischa realised wasn’t actually textured, it was covering a rather nasty looking burn scar.  
He was followed over by a more lean looking dark-haired chap with a goatee who introduced himself as Sergeant Carrie, and a corporal who was much more bouncy, with long blonde hair in a ponytail. “Call me Skye!” she grinned, shoving a bundle of lettuce into her mouth. “Don’t mind those two, Phoenix is as talkative as a wall and Carrie can’t shut up most of the time…”  
“Hey!” piped up Carrie, “Says you! Bloody woman, you don’t even take a breath when you talk!”  
Skye completely ignored him and held out her hand for a shake, “Anyway, nice to meet you Miss Reef, we’ve heard a lot about you…”  
“Way too much really…” Carrie was muttering.  
“Chief kept on and on complaining about this new girl we were going on a mission with, and then when Phoenix here said, ‘You fancy her?…’ in the way that he does, out of the blue, well… you should’ve seen Chief scarper from our meeting, it was hilarious! I bet he was red as a beetroot under that hat of his! Cortana was certainly laughing, he even tripped over a chair on his way out!” She was giggling through the story, “So, has he asked you out yet?”  
Mischa blinked at each of them in turn and felt a little awkward, but knew she would be getting much more acquainted with them as the mission approached. She nodded softly and stuttered that she’d been invited to dinner, at which point all three of them made incredulous whooping noises that drew the attention of the whole dinner hall.  
Another member was drawn over, he looked much more subdued and had piercings almost everywhere she looked. Where there weren’t piercings, there were holes were piercings had previously been.  
“Oh, this is Private Gael,” Skye waved her hand about nonchalantly, “He’s probably the most depressing person you’ll ever talk to, but he’ll keep you safe when we get out there, along with Jekyll. You’ll meet her later. She doesn’t like eating with people.”  
Private Gael turned his melancholy dark eyes towards her, flipped the floppy fringe-mohawk out of his eyes and smirked knowingly at her. “Welcome to the edge of the void, Miss Reef. I hope you enjoy our rollercoaster through the darkness.”  
Everyone went quiet and Mischa’s eyes rounded at him in wonder until Carrie coughed, smothering a fit of laughter, she caught his eye and he was shrugging, “We… we honestly don’t know how he got hired… really…” he was stammering.  
Phoenix at this point decided to present his arm upon the table as though inviting her for an arm wrestle. “U… uh… I’m okay… really, strength isn’t my forté, I can’t arm wrestle at all,” Mischa started.  
“Don’t worry, he’ll go easy on you.” Skye was now staring intently at her, as were the rest of them. Mischa looked horrified but placed her hand into Phoenix’s, not gripping very hard at all. She didn’t want to provoke anything unnecessary. However, instead of arm wrestling her, Phoenix just gripped her arm closer to his and shut his eyes. For about three minutes, (she knew because she was counting) he just held her there, both their arms up on the table, until his brown eyes opened and an actual grin appeared on his face, which was somehow more terrifying than anything else he could have done. Although what came out of his mouth was simply, “I like you. You have good energy!”  
Then, he scowled and proceeded with an actual arm wrestle, which she tried with both hands to win and failed miserably in seconds. He roared with laughter and lowered his head towards her seriously, “Don’t worry. We will keep you safe, little Storm.” He winked at her as her face went pale and she couldn’t quite understand how he’d picked up on her nickname. She was sure she hadn’t told any of them.  
“H… how did you…” she started stuttering but Carrie just patted her shoulders and made a clicking noise behind his teeth.  
“Don’t worry about it sweets, Phoenix here gets spooky feelings on people, and although we’re a little sceptical, he’s never been wrong about anyone. Weirdly. So if he likes you, we like you. _Storm._ ”  
“Hey, that’s a pretty cool nickname,” Gael was nodding approvingly, his studded eyebrow twitching, “The Void protects the Storm right…?”  
“You wish!” guffawed Skye. “Seriously, don’t call him The Void, it’ll just make him worse!”  
Gael sighed deeply and leant into Mischa’s vicinity. “She won’t mock me so much when I’ve got that sniper trained near her head on the battlefield,” he whispered.  
Skye actually picked up some of the mashed potato from Mischa’s plate and shoved it right into Gael’s eye. Mischa gaped, shocked, laying down her eating utensils, because she wasn’t eating any more of that after someone’s hand had been in it, while Carrie snorted loudly.  
“Anyway, welcome to the team!” he clapped her roughly on the back and she giggled nervously.

 

Her date with Chief had been… awkward, to say the least. She’d dressed up a little, curled her hair, put some form-fitting clothes on and a little make-up that she normally forwent in order to sleep in a little longer every morning. She thought making an effort would be nice. Although in retrospect, she wasn’t sure if he’d noticed.  
When she’d first knocked on his door, Cortana had shouted at her to come in, and John didn’t seem to be anywhere in sight. The empty SPARTAN suit hanging on the door of the wardrobe had burned her stomach, bringing back memories of her brother’s smiling face which she tried to squash as she didn’t want to be a downer on a date. Then Cortana had started speaking, and not for the first time, Mischa wondered exactly what the nature of John’s relationship was with Cortana. Not to mention the question of whether dating him meant they would always be a trio instead of a duo. _That_ would be awkward. Especially considering Cortana seemed to swing between finding the whole thing hilarious and then throwing out veiled insults.  
“Oh, I’ve never seen John blush so hard when people tease him about you, you must really be something special… oh… is that… _market-issue_ mascara you’ve got on? Isn’t that a bit… juvenile...? I suppose if you don’t make an effort with make-up a lot you wouldn’t invest in the prettier stuff though… hm…”  
It was utterly cringe-worthy and made Mischa feel a little bit like leaving.  
“Where... where is John?” she choked out, starting to tire of Cortana’s jealous motherly small talk.  
“Oh he’s…”  
A cloud of steam had fogged up the room as a half-naked man suddenly appeared from what was most likely the bathroom. Misha opened her mouth to scream and cover her eyes and yet again wonder why on Earth he had invited her to his room and was now presenting himself naked.  
“ _Oh nine hells!_ ” Chief shouted, “I am _so_ sorry!” He grabbed his suit and ran back into the bathroom.  
Mischa sat heavily on his bed and wondered why everything was getting so strange. She wanted to feel comfortable, she _liked_ talking to John. She needed to calm down. Accidents kept happening, but they just needed to be calm and…  
“I’m dressed!” John appeared from the bathroom again and she noticed he’d forgone the helmet. His blue eyes were darting about all over the place. “Tea, coffee?”  
“Tea please. Sorry about that, I uh…” Mischa suddenly realised that Cortana had invited her in, and she didn’t want to sound like a snitch so she mumbled the rest of her sentence, “I maybe should have waited outside…”  
The weirdness did ease up marginally after some tea, and they had a lovely dinner, discussing various technical ideas about the upcoming mission and how her training was going. He even asked about what sort of things she did for work in the lab, which she enthusiastically explained.  
It was… good. It was… okay. It was fine.  
At the end of the date, when he hovered over her with his arm on the door to say goodbye, purring how pretty her eyes were, she thought he was quite charming. He seemed like the type of person she could probably be with, although there were definitely some narcissistic qualities about him…  
She almost cracked her neck in half when his nose brushed against hers and her head hit the doorframe. He was going to kiss her.  
The urge to put her hand up to his chest to stop him was like a knee-jerk reaction and she forcibly froze herself. This was probably the reason why she’d been alone so long, and would be forever if she kept being such a cold fish.  
So she let him kiss her. And it was very good. It was a kiss that curled right into her belly and she thought, _he knows what he’s doing,_ followed by, _I wonder how many times he’s done this with other girls… oh shut up brain! Stop ruining things!_  
He was pressing her into the doorway and she had a feeling that he might steer her back into his bedroom, and she was not _quite_ ready for that step yet, so she pulled back to take a breath, cheeks red and hair messy.  
He was looking expectantly at her with those headlamp eyes.  
“U… uh. I’ve had a really nice time John,” she smiled shyly and took a step away, watching his eyes darken with a smirk. “Thank you very much for dinner. I’d better get back though, it’s late and we’ve got an early start!”  
“Mmhm.” He leant to the side and winked at her.  
“See you tomorrow?” she backed away towards the corridor.  
“Sure.” He was watching her like a shark and she had to admit, she wasn’t impartial to it.  
She turned away, waving over her shoulder, legs a little wobbly and lungs a little breathless. Her head was a bit confused and her heart… her heart was a little numb.


End file.
